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by noyabeans (snowdrops)



Series: Timeless [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdrops/pseuds/noyabeans
Summary: It’s the middle of the night when Yaku comes back.Yaku is panting, like he’d run all the way to Kuroo’s house, but Kuroo doesn’t get to ask what’s happening before he’s being yanked down roughly by the other.





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The knocks wake Kuroo up in the middle of the night - three sharp raps against the door, harsh in the silence.

There can only be one person trying to get into his house at this unearthly hour. Kuroo mentally groans as he drags himself to the front door; the doorknob is heavy in his hand and the hinges creak as he pulls it open.

As predicted, it’s Yaku, clad in his dusty and tattered travelling cloak. Kuroo’s slightly surprised, since Yaku hadn’t made any mention of coming back this soon after he left.

“Yakkun?”

Yaku is panting, like he’d run all the way to Kuroo’s house (Kuroo wouldn’t put it past him; his house is ten minutes away from the pods by sprint), but Kuroo doesn’t get to ask what’s happening before he’s being yanked down roughly by Yaku. He barely has time to regain his balance when his mouth has been caught up in a searing kiss.

Something is _definitely_ wrong. Yaku’s being much more forceful than usual. The kiss is wet and sloppy, and his movements are rushed and frantic, almost borderline desperate. While normally Kuroo would appreciate the change in pace, Yaku’s sudden appearance has set him on edge.

When Yaku breaks the kiss, Kuroo takes the chance to place his hands firmly on Yaku’s shoulders, holding the other in place.

“Hold up, Yaku,” he says, frowning. “What’s up?”

Yaku stares blankly back at him for a moment. He looks slightly dazed, winded even. “I,” he rasps. “I’m safe.”

Kuroo narrows his eyes at him, senses immediately on high alert. “Of course you’re safe. What are you talking about? Where did you come from?”

“War,” Yaku says after a brief pause. The word comes out in a rush, and his hands are still white-knuckled in Kuroo’s shirt. “I don’t know what happened, it wasn’t supposed to happen, I wasn’t planning on coming back here, but something screwed up somewhere and the 32nd century’s war looped. _Again_.”

Kuroo lets the words sink in. Tries to process them, tries to reconcile what he knows of _the war_ with this Yaku in front of him, rattled in a way that Kuroo has hardly, if ever, seen him before.

“Let’s go in,” he decides at last, reaching an arm around Yaku’s shoulders. Yaku is, as always, slight in contrast to himself. His travelling cloak is rough to the touch, and there are still specks of sand from where he must have fled through the sand plains near the time travel pods. “Then you can tell me what happened from the start.”

Allowing himself to be ushered in through the door, Yaku mutters a quiet _Excuse me_ as he slips out of his worn shoes and steps into the house.

“Do you want food?” Kuroo asks after he’s latched the door and flicked the lamp alight. He’s, frankly, exhausted, but Yaku still looks shaken; it’s a look he doesn’t like to see on him.

“I’m good,” Yaku says, dropping his bag on the ground and draping his cloak on top of it. “I don’t think I can stomach anything after that. I just want to -”

“Shower and sleep,” Kuroo finishes for him. Yaku shoots him what is probably meant to be a fearsome glare, but it's ruined by his lips quirking upwards.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he says, before crossing the distance to plant himself in front of Kuroo, pulling him down gently but insistently; Kuroo watches how the light from the lamp flickers in Yaku’s eyes as he draws closer and closer until there’s no more space between them, feels Yaku’s lips meld against his own.

This time, it’s slow and tender, nothing like the frenzied pace that Kuroo had been greeted with less than ten minutes prior. The ticking of the grandfather clock standing in Kuroo’s living room is drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears, the slight chill from the night air burned away by the heat of Yaku’s body pressed flush to himself.

Yaku hooks his arms around Kuroo’s neck, deepening the kiss, and Kuroo’s hands - they move down, in search of more heat, more contact, more _Yaku_. They skim the hem of Yaku’s shirt for a moment, playing with the fabric, before slipping underneath. The touch of Yaku’s skin on his is scalding, and his hands wander up Yaku’s back, until his fingers graze a rough ridge just below Yaku’s ribs.

At the touch, Yaku stiffens, and Kuroo freezes too, before instinctively pulling his roving hands back.

“Too soon?” he murmurs, words breathy against Yaku’s lips. Yaku’s blushing, and he’s stoically avoiding eye contact.

When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Sorry, I -”

Kuroo chuckles, drawing Yaku back into his arms and pressing a light kiss on his temple. “It’s okay. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

They stay like that for a while, Kuroo holding Yaku close to himself, until Yaku moves and says at length, “I should go take that shower.”

“Yeah, you should,” Kuroo says, letting him go and immediately lamenting the loss of Yaku’s body heat. “I’ll wait up for you.”

“You don’t have to. You're tired.”

“I want to.”

Yaku doesn’t object to that, instead quietly trotting off to the room where his spare clothes are kept.

* * *

Kuroo’s almost drifted off by the time a warm weight settles itself next to him. On the precipice between sleep and wakefulness he mumbles something that was meant to be Yaku’s name, but comes out as an incoherent string of syllables. Yaku laughs low, the sound spreading warmth through Kuroo’s body, and he feels rather than registers Yaku’s fingers seeking out his own.

“Are you too tired for me to tell you what happened? I can always tell you in the morning,” Yaku whispers, voice loud in the silence.

Opening his eyes, Kuroo rolls over to look at him. In the darkness, he can’t quite make out Yaku’s features. “Nah, tell me. It’ll help you get it off your chest. We can sleep in tomorrow.”

There’s a snort, and a drawn-out sigh. “You’re looking for excuses, aren’t you,” Yaku chides, but there’s amusement in his voice. He moves closer to Kuroo, whatever little distance there had been between them disappearing as he splays his fingers on Kuroo’s chest thoughtfully.

“You know what happened in the 32nd, right?” he says after some time.

Kuroo doesn’t remember the specific century, but he can put two and two together enough to figure out what Yaku’s talking about. “Two clans get in a fight, you get caught between?”

“Pretty much,” Yaku says, beginning to trace distractedly on Kuroo’s stomach and laughing when Kuroo squirms. “I told you I got the scar from the clan leader, but I don't think I ever told you how it happened, did I?”

The scar in question is the ugly jagged line that runs unbroken from left shoulder to right waist. It's the reason why Yaku doesn't take his shirt off anywhere outside of home, and Kuroo considers it an honour that Yaku trusts him enough to let him even see it, let alone touch it.

“Nope, do I want to know? I'll probably want to go to the 32nd and kill the person who did it myself.”

“I guess not,” Yaku muses, catching Kuroo's other hand in his own. “I don't really want to remember what he did, either.

“Anyway, I was walking into one of the town centers, when Nu- the clan leader started walking towards me, and I _knew_. You know that feeling when you’re sure something’s happened before?”

“Déjà vu?”

Hand once more curling in Kuroo's thin sleeping shirt, Yaku nods. 

“Yeah. I don’t remember that happening, but I knew something was wrong, and that history was going to repeat. And I… instinct told me to run, so I turned and ran. The whole clan came after me. They were waiting for me to reach the town hall like they did previously… I don't think I've ever run that fast in my life - I don’t even know how I managed to get out safe -”

Kuroo doubts Yaku even notices it, but he’s tensed up: his spine is rigid and his fingers cling to Kuroo’s, his metaphorical hackles raised like a cornered animal. Not bothering to free himself, Kuroo opts instead to rub the pad of his thumb in soothing circles on the back of Yaku’s hand. “So you came back… here. Why? You could have stayed in the pod and jumped to, like, ten years later?”

The question earns him a flat stare and a sharp jab between the ribs. “I already told you, I panicked. I fled to the pods and jumped. I wasn’t thinking straight, I just wanted to get away.”

Then there’s a sigh, little more than a soft puff of breath against Kuroo’s neck. “All the time when I was running from them, I…” Yaku trails off, head tilting slightly so that he can look Kuroo in the eye.

“All the time I was running, I was thinking of you,” he says, and if he looks like he's blushing, Kuroo knows better than to make mention of it. Not that he has the mental capacity to, anyway, because then Yaku leans over and whispers in his ear, “I was thinking about how I couldn’t _die_ without telling you first.”

Well. Kuroo wasn’t exactly expecting that, but the bluntness with which the words leave Yaku’s mouth still wipes his mind of whatever he’d been planning to say. Instead, the first reaction he has is to laugh, because only Yaku would phrase what might have otherwise been a dramatic confession of feelings in such a deadpan way. The thought sends a wave of affection rushing through his body.

Yaku looks mildly affronted - rather, he would be wearing an affronted look were he not, at present, burying his face in Kuroo’s chest with a muffled complaint of, “That was the sappiest thing I’ve said in a while and you laugh at me, you dick.”

“You’re right though, Yakkun,” Kuroo says, threading his fingers through Yaku’s still-damp hair. He can smell his own shampoo on Yaku. “I would be heartbroken if you never came back, like ever.”

“I _know_ ,” Yaku groans. “I’ll try my best not to.”

Kuroo drops a kiss on his lips, chaste and light. “I’ll be there to make sure you don’t.”

“Sap.”

“Says you?”

“Shut up. Let’s sleep.”

Kuroo falls asleep to the soft rise and fall of Yaku’s chest and the sound of his heartbeat beating in time to his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Working title: Timeless 2.5 because I wasn't intending on writing this at all; I only started it when I was deep in my writing rut last month hoping to reignite my muse through fluffy Kuroyaku. 
> 
> In other news, I started a [writing journal](https://noyabeans.dreamwidth.org/) over at dreamwidth, if you're interested- but for the time being I'll be slowing down on my writing because I royally messed up my wrists by overwork. 
> 
> Shoutout to [Rits](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aritzen) for agreeing to run along with spontaneous plans =v= Thanks to [ Safyre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily) and [Penny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kanpekinalady/pseuds/directorennoshita) for the help and [Tsucchi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsucchi/pseuds/Tsucchi) for being my ever-present cheerleader! 
> 
> Catch me at:
> 
> [tumblr (rielity)](https://rielity.tumblr.com/) | [twitter (noyabeans)](https://twitter.com/noyabeans)


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